The day that had to happen, that I didn’t want to happen (all love of our theology and the Resurrection aside) … has happened. Father Dennis Dillon, SJ, died at peace on Monday, April 21, 2025. Yes, Easter Monday, and the same day as Pope Francis. His are the homilies and poem selections that form the main content for the liturgical entries in this blog.
I’ve delayed posting this for all kinds of reasons, but it seemed fitting to do so as we begin the 13th season (in-person) of the parish film series he began at St Mary’s (St Mary Student Parish in Ann Arbor, Michigan) in 2012.
His obituary from the Midwest Jesuits and the funeral home are similar but a bit different in purpose.
I’ve included the various notes and materials below of his Vigil and Funeral Mass at Colombiere Chapel in Clarkston, Michigan. It was a one-time Jesuit college and in its hey-day filled with budding Jesuits. Now — the Colombiere Conference and Retreat Center runs side-by-side with the Colombiere Jesuit Community — a retirement and healthcare facility. We should all be so graced to receive such love and care in our final days.
Vigil, Thursday, April 24, 2025
In the Vigil, you hear wonderful testimonies of friendship & family and the overwhelming memory of relationship with him — kindness. And, as his adult nephew said, somehow, no matter what was going on, if Dennis was around, it just felt like everything would be alright. Not because of any particular acumen on his part (though he was accomplished as priest, prophet, and magician!), but because of his faith and how he walked with Jesus.
Prelude to Funeral Mass
Prior to the beginning of the funeral Mass, Fr Mark Luedtke, SJ, superior of the Colombiere Jesuit Community, queued up Odetta’s version of “Ain’t No Grave Gonna Hold This Body Down.” This was one of D2’s requests, as his final two full-time assignments prior to semi-retirement at St Mary’s had been to predominantly African-American parishes in Ohio. Unfortunately, the prelude was not captured on the livestream.
The link to Odetta’s version and her lyrics follow.
“Ain’t No Grave (Gonna Hold This Body Down)” (originally by Claude Ely)
There ain’t no grave
can hold my body down.
Ain’t no grave
can hold my body down, my body down.
When the blues trumpet sound,
I’ll be gettin’ up walkin’ round.
Ain’t no grave
can hold my body down.
Well, I heard, beautiful sinner,
well its Jesus’ words takin’ me home.
Been I headin’ out, headin’ a-headin’
O lord, I been told
when I call this Throne of Grace
it’s gonna coin my soul in place.
Ain’t no grave
can hold my body down.
When Jesus hangin’ on the cross
well it made poor Mary [??].
Then he look down on his disciples
and take my brother home
Ain’t that a pity, dark shame
How they crucified his name
Ain’t no grave
can hold my body down.
Ain’t no grave
can hold my body down.
Ain’t no grave
can hold my body down, my body down.
When the blues trumpet sound,
I’ll be gettin’ up walkin’ round
ain’t no grave can hold my body down.
Funeral Mass
Entrance Hymn: I Want to Be a Child of Jesus
First Reading: Job 19:23-25, 27
Psalm 23
Second Reading: 1 John 3:1-2
Luke 24:13-35 (The Road to Emmaus)
(read in alternation with Fathers Gary Wright and Bob Scullin, SJ)
A Poetry & Prose Homily by both:
Poems read by Fr. Bob Scullin, SJ:
Prose — an excellent homily (part 2!)
Fr. Gary Wright, SJ Homily:
Alas, it falls to me to carry the lowly prose section of this. I hesitate to even say anything following those beautiful words. I’ll begin with a story of my third to last visit with Dennis. He was still in the hospital in the throes of co-vid. He was not lucid and couldn’t really speak at all. But, part way through the visit he suddenly snapped to alertness and looked me right in the eyes. I thought, “Ah! A moment of clarity!” And I said, “You know who I am!” “Yes, of course! You are the Pope!” And to this day, I don’t know if he was hallucinating or just being his usual playful self with me.
But I can assure you, he was not being playful in choosing these readings today. These selections from scripture give a wonderful window into the soul of Dennis, a wonderful way into his spirituality.
Last night at the Vigil Service many of us spoke about how gentle a soul Dennis was, how kindly, how compassionate. But, I found the first reading from the Book of Job today to be almost defiant in tone, not like Dennis at all. “O that my words were chiseled into the rock forever. I know that my Redeemer will live and stand upon the dust of the earth. And from my flesh I will see God.” He’s almost like a defiant proclamation to us, of Dennis’ own belief in God and a life beyond this one and in the Resurrection. But I think it’s more than a belief in the Resurrection. He’s also saying something about our destiny, our purpose in this life as human beings, which is to see God. “From my flesh I shall see God” that we might see something of the divine mystery that gives birth to all of us, that is our life, that is our destiny, and our calling.
In the second reading today, from the Letter of St John, I think Dennis is making clear that that seeing God is a lifelong process of transformation in us. That every time we get some glimpse of the divine mystery, some glimpse of the depth dimension of our lives, we are transformed, and we become more like God ourselves. The reading says that we know we are God’s children now but we don’t know what we will be then, bespeaks of that process of transformation. But we do know that when it is revealed we shall be like him … we shall be like him for we shall see him as he is.
Now those are wonderful thoughts and we know Dennis would never leave us there with some lovely theological truths that are somewhat abstract. And, so the gospel today, I think, brings out the human dimension, brings out the human story, and a narrative how we do see God and find God in our very human, our everyday experience. If this gospel were a movie, as Dennis might look at it, I see in it three scenes that are critical for our reflection.
Scene 1: there, the disciples are walking along the road on the way to this village, and it is said they were conversing about everything that had happened. And this stranger comes up, and it says he walks with them, he walks with them. And, it seems to me, this captures a great deal of the life and even the ministry of Dennis Dillon: conversing about everything that’s happened.
I know I first met Dennis when we were assigned to live together in a Jesuit community in 1972. And over 53 years, we conversed a lot. Many of you knew him as a priest, as a pastor, as a spiritual guide, I just knew him as a friend. And we talked and talked and talked and talked. It was a lot of conversation. And I’m sure you enjoyed conversation with him. And I think he had a deep trust that in that conversation Jesus would come up and walk with us. Maybe we didn’t recognize him but Jesus was there in the conversation.
Scene 2: Jesus begins to reveal himself to them, and he begins to explain the scriptures to them. And I think this was an essential part of who Dennis was, he explained the scriptures to us, but NOT by talking about the Bible. <chuckle> He explained the scriptures through poetry, through film, through the arts. He gave us a way in to words and to thoughts that helped us articulate what our lives are really about in this world, with one other, with our God. And, I think in this, Dennis was really exercising a prophetic ministry. I think we all know today religious language is lost on most people. It’s just not heard any more. And I think Dennis very deliberately developed, as it were, a second language, an alternative language, other words to give us a way into the sacred, into the sacred words, into some understanding of our faith and of the life that we live.
Scene 3: They arrive at the inn, they go in, and they sit down to eat. And there, Jesus takes the bread, says the blessing, blesses it, and breaks it, and gives it to them. This was another dimension of the ministry of Dennis, of his life — sharing meals with his friends. But above all sharing the sacred liturgy. I think of all the years of Dennis’ life as a Jesuit and all the many different assignments that he had; he was never far from the altar. He was never far from the altar. And I’m sure many of you sitting here from his various parishes may remember him primarily as one who celebrated the Eucharist. Who called us together at this table, and Dennis was the one who took the bread, and said the blessing and broke it and shared it with us. And, I think in that, we could recognize who Dennis really was, just like those disciples finally recognized Jesus who he was.
In the Eucharist, I think we see, really, the deepest part of Dennis, his most real self, what he believed and lived most. It was a world of symbols, signs, sacrament, that went beyond words, in which we are called to experience the presence of God with us, in his Christ, and experience that call to be broken and shared ourselves to give our lives to one another.
This came together for me in an image, a memory that came back to me recently. One week ago yesterday it was Holy Thursday, and at the time I didn’t realize how close Dennis was to passing. At the HT service, my mind was just filled with the memory of Dennis presiding at a HT service many years ago when he was the pastor at Gesu parish, and I was sitting in the congregation. At the end of that service, the priest takes the communion, the Sacrament the blessed Sacrament, and makes a solemn procession through the church preceded by candles and incense. This memory came back to me and just filled my mind and my heart because that day many years ago when I watched Dennis come down the aisle toward me somehow time stood still for a minute. And as it were I saw into another dimension of Dennis, and in that moment he became for me an icon, of the human being bearing the presence of Christ as he walks through the world. That was Dennis, an image of Christ walking through the world.
And if it is true that we are all called to be other Christs, and, if it is true that we believe that Dennis now is moving more deeply into union with Christ, then, it isn’t a scandal for us to say of Dennis what we might say of Christ. And so I want to end by quoting an Easter hymn that is addressed to Christ that we sang at that Holy Thursday liturgy so many years ago.
Dennis, we remember how you loved us to your death, and still we celebrate for you are with us here. And we believe that we will see you once again in your glory. We remember. We celebrate. We believe. —***—
Offertory: Jesus, Let All Creation Bend a Knee to the Lord
Closing: Jesus, We Remember
Take and Receive (Old Melody)
Song at Final Commendation of our funeral Masses (Song of Farewell, Dennis Smolarski, SJ)
A Jesuit Post reflection by a young Jesuit who had happened upon Dennis’ grave a few days later, as he was reflecting on the passing of Pope Francis.
Thank you, Dennis, for your many, many gifts of kindness to so many; for a spirituality of humbleness and gratitude as a way to learn to walk with Christ; and for all the shared and sharing love of poetry, film, and the arts.
The Surest Sign 